


The Colour Of Shoes

by bluemisfortune



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen, Swearing, its a sorta fluffy friendship fic, only with zombies and blood rather than fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemisfortune/pseuds/bluemisfortune
Summary: Eric and Grell are Ronald’s closest friends. He loves and respects them more than anyone. They’re also absolutely terrifying.





	The Colour Of Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> Continues my age old tradition of mentioning something in passing in a fic then obsessing over the details to the point where I have to write a fic about it. This time that Ronald got shoes to match Grell's as a present. The fact that I'm slowly sinking back deeper into this fandom concerns me but thats fine because Eric, Grell and Ronald brot3 is too important. I've populated the office with random kids and continue to smudge the timeline so I can pretend Eric and Alan could have been around after the Campania despite the obvious issues there.

 London (and if they’re quite honest, which Mr Spears says they’re officially not allowed to be for budget and staffing reasons, most the rest of the country and apparently beyond) Dispatch has a reputation for driving its staff to madness. Everyone says so. London Dispatch’s staff are at best quirky and at worst utter mad men. Bloodthirsty, axe crazy, violent, antisocial monsters in smart suits.

 More sympathetic staff would smile and laugh understandingly. _“They regularly work double and triple shifts, and cover everyone else’s work, they’re so overstretched. Who wouldn’t be a little off after that.”_

 _“They make them work in such a cripplingly understaffed department because they’re all absolutely bonkers,”_ less sympathetic staff would say. _“They make them work so many shifts in an attempt to keep them so exhausted they can’t cause trouble.”_

 They’ve got used to their reputation. They’ve got used to how terrified and dejected new recruits are. How angry new transfers are. To them, being sent to London means they’re either too much trouble to handle, or so useless, no one but the most desperate will have them.

 These days, juniors are delivered to Ronald upon arrival. Mr Spears say they’re short staffed enough as it is and trustworthy seniors to look after them are few and far between. Ronald’s always glad to be trusted by Mr Spears, and he’s charming enough he can put new employees at ease. Except the seniors that don’t appreciate being shown the ropes by a junior officer. Although honestly, he wonders where these rumours about them all being bloodsoaked, demon crazy beasts came from.

 It can’t all be Grell.

 

 “Good morning, Mr Spears,” Ronald chirps. Mr Spears glances at him and adjusts his glasses. Someone isn’t happy this morning. Something to do with Grell following on his heels, probably. “Miss Sutcliff.”

 “Ronald Knox, Sutcliff has not filled out the correct paperwork to be referred to as a miss, please refrain from encouraging him,” Mr Spears says.

 “That’s so cruel, Will,” Grell whines. “What’s paperwork got to do with anything?”

 “Paperwork has everything to do with everything.”

 “You never do your paperwork anyway, Miss Grell.”

 “Knox,” Mr Spear snaps.

 “Mr Grell.”

 “Ronnie!”

 “I am aware that you have a full plate already, Knox,” he says. Ronald knows he’s glaring so keeps his focus on the coffee. “However, you’re required to assist Sutcliff and Slingby with a reap this afternoon.”

 “Alan can’t do it?”

 “Humphries has a check up later today.” Ronald nods again. Alan has periodical check ups. He’s not entirely sure why. Eric says it’s important though, and gets this strangely upset look in his eyes, so Ronald never questions it. “So hey, how come like a thousand souls in the middle of the freezing ocean that I’m not even sure is our territory, and we have to do it all with just me and Miss Grell, but there’s three of us for whatever this is?”

 “Because Personnel said so.”

 “Right, right,” Ronald says.

 “And I won’t warn you again about calling Sutcliff miss.”

 Ronald sighs and nods. “I can’t win when you’re both in the room. Torn apart by a chainsaw or buried under overtime.”

 “You’re not hot enough to be worth meeting my scythe, Ronnie dear,” Grell coos, pinching his cheek in passing. Mr Spears is already walking away and of course Grell is following. “I just wouldn’t be able to get excited in a fight with you. And no more of this Miss Grell, makes me sound middle aged. Just Grell.”

 “You’re my senior, Miss Grell, and I respect my seniors.”

 “That sounds like you’re calling me old.”

 “No, just terrifying.”

 “And don’t you forget it,” Grell says, disappearing from the office. “See you later, sweetie.”

 Ronald sighs and puts his organiser down on the desk he’d declared his for the moment, next to his coffee. He’s not usually in this main open plan office. He’s got his own private office along the hall. But he has to be here for the shift brief and herding juniors. He’s not sure how he’s become head junior, or whether that’s an official role or just something thrust upon him, but apparently he has and apparently they other juniors are his responsibility. Most the office juniors seem good with the idea, even those older than him. Everyone knows Ronald’s workload would have been ridiculous for a senior anywhere else, here in London it was a little less than what seniors took on.  

 

 “What horror is going on to earn you on my desk, Ronnie?”

 Ronald turns and grins at the redheaded woman approaching. Despite departments technically not having restrictions, Dispatch is still very much a lad’s jobs. Partly because of the attitudes of Humans when they die, partly just because that’s how it was.

 “Didn’t realise it was your desk, Miss Kanade,” Ronald says. “Just picked one.”

 Kanade had transferred in from Japan a few decades ago. Somehow London has got such a reputation and is so desperately understaffed they take on troublemakers from around the world. Mr Spears also has quite the reputation for being able to handle them.

 “Didn’t see you with the others last night, Ronnie,” Kanade laughs, taking Ronald’s coffee and drinking. “Something up?”

 “Miss Grell and I had overtime. Why can’t I come out reaping with you instead? I’d get way less overtime and if you put on a red coat you’re basically just a more regulation version of Grell.”

 “Don’t let Grell here you saying that. I don’t feel like getting into a fight over you with your mother. Grell’s more my type than you anyway.”

 “Saying things like that about Grell is creepy,” he laughs. “And I’m not even sure which part of that was worse. Aren’t you with Miss Serena anyway?”

 “Doesn’t mean I can’t look.”

 “I swear you’re like some weird lovechild of Mr Eric and Miss Grell.”

 “I choose to take that as a compliment rather than the spirit you meant it.”

 Ronald jumps off her desk and heads towards the other juniors as they come in and sit on the couches and wheelie chairs at the other end of the office. Ronald spins his chair absently, as they fall into quiet but lively chatter and gossip. He does end up stealing a coffee from one of the juniors younger than him to make up for the one Kanade had taken. It has been pointed out more than once that coffee may as well have been currency in their office.

 

 “I’m commandeering your coffee, Ronald,” Alan says, suddenly over his shoulder and taking his coffee. “Although, I doubt it was yours to begin with.”

 “Ah, Mr Alan,” Ronald says, beaming up at him.“My original one was already commandeered by Miss Kanade as payment for use of her desk as a seat.”

 “You do have you own desk, so it’s unsurprising. Thank you though, it’s being donated to a good cause.”

 “Morning, Mr Eric.”

 Eric mumbles something into the back of Alan’s shoulder, raising a hand. It might have been a greeting but honestly it wasn’t anything comprehensible. Alan smiles and takes Eric’s hand, guiding it to the coffee and there’s another mumble that’s probably a thanks.

 “How’s the hangover, Mr Eric?” Ronald says. Eric says something unintelligible and flips him off. “That good, huh? How’d it go other than that? You left work with Miss Sally, Miss Jane and Miss Kate.”

 He lifts his head slightly, takes a drink of Ronald’s coffee. “Woke up with Jenny.”

 “From General Affairs?”

 “From Secretarial. The blond with the bob. Zak and Lexi left with Kate.” He groans and takes another drink of coffee. He frowns and hands it back, turning to the rest of the room. “Speaking of the date stealing bastards; Zak, I’m borrowing your desk.”

 Isaak waves a hand from where he’s sitting at Alexi’s desk, his partner sitting on his desk letting him rest his head in his lap. Apparently another hangover victim as well as a date stealing bastard. He and Alexi had come from Germany, spoken highly of by Mr Spears’ acquaintance out there - Ronald thinks that’s his way of saying friend, or at least the closest he’ll get - Rudgar. He’s not entirely sure what the two have done to be banished to London, but they seem like a hard working pair. Friendly enough, no trouble, paperwork done on time. Even if they are as bad as Eric and Kanade for stealing Ronald’s dates.

 “Who’s got a black coffee I can have?” Eric groans as he’s rummaging through Isaak’s desk. “And where are you shades, Zak?”

 “Wearing them,” he replies. “Get your own.”

 “Is this a regular thing?” one of the newbies asks.

 “We work hard, we party hard,” one of the other juniors says. “Although, Mr Slingby more than most of us. It’s important to blow off steam in this job.”

 “Just watch Mr Slingby,” another laughs. “He’ll steal pretty much any date you have.”

 “He’ll go for anything that moves.”

 “When Mr Humphries gives him permission, at least.”

 “I can hear you, and you’re insulting me,” Eric calls. Ronald turns his chair. Eric is slumped over Isaak’s desk with a pair of dark shades Ronald recognises as Kanade’s on. “Both are bad things when I’m in this kinda mood.”

 “Sorry, Mr Slingby,” the juniors calls.

 “Quiet,” Isaak groans.

 “Knox,” Alexi scolds lightly, pushing up his glasses. “Control your rabble.”

 “Sorry guys,” Ronald replies.

 

 “Good morning, everyone,” Mr Spears calls, striding in. The office goes silent. Grell was on his heels once more. Sometimes Ronald is amazed Mr Spears doesn’t trip over Grell. “I’m glad everyone is here on time for once. I assume you two are simply hungover and didn’t have the audacity to turn up to work drunk. _Again_.”

 “Learnt that lesson last time,” Isaak groans.

 “Please, just a little quieter,” Eric mumbles into his arms.

 “Can we get on with this?” Kanade says. “Everyone important has a date tonight and the sooner we get moving the less overtime we have.”

 “I don’t do overtime,” Ronald groans.

 “I don’t have a date,” Grell says.

 “Point proven,” Eric mutters.

 “Reasoning aside,” Mr Spears says with a sigh, “I agree with the sentiments. Can we please get to work.”

 Mr Spears works through the shift brief quickly. The quicker they got through it, the less chance of going off on tangents. Although, the brief certainly gave everyone time to wake up properly and at partly recover from their hangovers. And then Mr Spears is done with them and heading out to return to his office. He slams the office door and Eric jerks up, cringing and Ronald can almost feel his pain.

 “ _William_ ,” he snaps, yanking up the shades. “I swear to God-”

 “Eric, please,” Isaak groans.

 

 Ronald meets up with Eric and Grell just after two. He’s pretty sure his Death List is lying to him, or there’s something weird going on. Twenty souls between the three of them. Eric looks just as suspicious about it as Ronald feels. Grell, not so much. Eric is out of Kanade’s dark glasses and is certainly looking perkier. That’s a plus, at least. Dealing with a grumpy hungover Eric as well as a bloodthirsty Grell - as Grell always is by this point in the shift - would be a real pain in the ass. That’s a recipe for overtime if he ever saw one.

 “How many coffees have you had, Mr Eric?” Ronald says.

 “Enough that I’m not gonna sleep tonight without getting drunk off my ass again,” Eric replies.

 “Sounds like a vicious circle there, dear,” Grell sighs.

 “Yeah, but I’m not gonna crash until about 5am if I don’t,” he says with a shrug.

 “As long as you don’t have jitters,” Ronald says.

 “I’m not the one carrying around a mechanised weapon.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “So, twenty souls, three of us, one hour. Anyone else struggling with that maths?”

 “That sounds entirely fake,” Grell says, cocking a hip. Ronald nods. “What’s Personnel up to now?”

 Ronald pulls out his organiser, flicking through to find the list of deaths. Eric and Grell lean over his shoulders, checking out what information they’ve got. They’ve got another ten minutes until the first death is due, they’ve got time to be concerned. It is weird. This is the sort of thing that would usually be handled by one of them. It doesn’t even look like it requires someone like Grell or Eric. Ronald probably could have done this all himself.

 “This is really suspicious,” Eric says.

 “Maybe Will’s going to surprise us,” Grell says, hips wiggling. They both glance over and Grell frowns at them. “What? Can’t a lady dream?”

 “Delusion’s more like it,” he laughs and Ronald smirks.

 “Even if he did surprise us, it’d probably just be with more paperwork,” Ronald says. Grell pouts at them. “Seriously though, what the hell is going on? Why are we here?”

 “Demon, maybe?” Grell says. “Oh, I hope so. That would be just wonderful.”

 “No it wouldn’t,” Eric grumbles. “You’ll get into fights. You and Alan are so bad for that. It’s just a demon, stop getting your knickers in a twist.”

 “It’s a thong, and I’d much rather just go without when a demon is around.”

 “Of course.”

 “Didn’t need to know that, Miss Grell,” Ronald laughs awkwardly.

 “You too, Ron,” Eric says.

 “Me?” he snaps. “I’m not going commando. Funny how you’re talking about Mr Alan and your first thought is knickers. We all know who wants to get into Mr Alan’s pants, don’t we?”

 “There is nothing going on between me and Alan. I meant the demon fighting thing.”

 “Hey, I couldn’t care less what demons are up to, but if they’re getting in the way and it’s gonna end with management saying I’m trying to cover my mistakes with a demon excuse then I need to get rid of it.”

 Eric frowns at him. “If you say so. Still doesn’t answer the question of why three of us have been called here to do what looks like an easy job.”

 “Maybe staffing levels are picking up at last,” Grell says.

 There’s a moment of silence before they all end up laughing madly. As if. More likely they were in for some kind of hell on earth. How bad does it have to be to warrant two advanced seniors and one super advanced junior when over a thousand souls and a zombie break out had only earnt two of them?

 Erc sighs and heads out first, the pair of them following behind. Time to get to work.

 

 It is, as they expected, an absolute mess. Of course it wasn’t going to be easy or fun. It’s not long until it becomes painfully obvious why they’ve been given Eric to accompany them. There are moving corpses. A group of workers sent into clear out the old hospital walked straight into another of that old coot’s tests of his stupid moving corpses. And, of course, these stupid zombies recognise them as souls to be devoured too. Personnel obviously knew something and sent Eric to cover them while they collected. And just in case that nutty deserter turned up again, given how soundly they’d had their asses handed to them last time.

 Ronald slams his scythe’s body into the head of the last corpse, far harder than necessary. It smashes into the wall with a wet explosion and blood splatters all over him. They’re softer than living Humans. Decomposition and all. He _hates_ Personnel right now.

 “You good, kid?” Eric calls, sweeping bloody hair from his face.

 “My shoes are gonna be ruined,” Ronald growls, glaring down at his stained white shoes. “This sucks. I just got them clean again from the last time. I swear when I get my hands on that geezer I’m gonna cut his hair with my scythe’s engine until there’s a crunch.”

 “Ah, Ronnie,” Grell laughs, arms wrapped around his shoulder suddenly. “See, you _can_ do sexy when you try. You’re looking pretty hot yourself, Eric.”

 “Implying there are times when I don’t look hot?” Eric laughs, flicking out his hair and sending blood droplets everywhere. Ronald pulls a face as Grell hums, stepping away and dancing across the bloodsoaked floor. They are his closest friends and he loves them, but they’re fucking psychos. “Blood red really is my colour, huh?”

 “Along with decomposing shit black,” Ronald mutters.

 “Shut it, Ronnie,” Grell says. “Whiny children aren’t cute.”

 “How’d I go from sexy to cute that quickly?”

 “You started complaining about blood.”

 “Hey, I have no problems with blood,” Ronald snaps, stamping his food - and regretting it when blood splashes. “My issue is with what it does to my clothes. My poor shoes.”

 “Is there anything you love more than those shoes?” Grell sighs.

 “I think if you gave him a choice between hot sex and protecting those shoes he’d become a celibate monk,” Eric laughs, slinging his arm around Ronald’s shoulders.

 “You two are awful to me,” Ronald cries, throwing his hands up. “You guys could have made a little less mess. I’m sure this wasn’t necessary. You remember we agreed I’d get the souls and you guys would cover them? So why am I covered in the most blood?!”

 “Because your scythe is a beast, Ronnie,” Grell says. “You always make such a mess. Splatter everywhere. All brute force and ignorance and no delicacy or respect. You should learn that there’s more technique to these things than just slamming in and expecting things to work. You need a bit something more intimate and clean to really make them scream.”

 “I’m not sure we’re still on reaping,” Eric whispers as they walk through the halls.

 “I have no problems in either department,” Ronald snaps.

 “What departments?” Grell says with a grin that looks says the innocence is entirely fake. “Ronnie dear, are you projecting your issues reaping onto something else?”

 “I have no issues reaping!”

 “Come on, kid,” Eric laughs, ruffling his hair, sending more blood drops splattering over his glasses. “I’ll make it up to ya tonight. You can have whatever date is my second choice.”

 “Wow, Eric,” Grell scolds. “That’s what you get a kid when you’ve defiled the love of his life?”

 “I did nothing to his scythe.”

 “His shoes, moron.”

 “Oh. Right.”

 “You two really are awful to me,” Ronald says, glaring up through bloody smudges on his lense. “I don’t know why I like either of you.”

 “Well, you can either accept the offer, or you can compete with Zak and Lexi.”

 “I’m not so proud I won’t accept your seconds,” Ronald grumbles. He’s striking out recently anyway. He needs a break and if that means relying on Eric then why the fuck not? “Thanks.”

 “You two are so depressing,” Grell sighs with an overly dramatic hair flick.

 

 The looks they get when they head into the office might explain where the rumours about their department come from. Three of them walking into the pristine white building, dripping and leaving bloody footprints in their wake. Ronald _hates_ his job on days like these. And _hates_ Personnel with a passion.

 Ronald ends up in his private office, pulling out his spare uniform and glaring wistfully at his ruined shoes. He’s going to have to fork out to have them professionally cleaned up again. And he doesn’t have any spare shoes. Luckily, Alan has his back there; they’re the same size and he’s smart enough to have a spare pair. Then Mr Spears dumps a bucket and mop in front of him and demands he tidies up the mess they’ve made. It’s his role as junior apparently. Eric _so_ owes him a lay for this. And he doesn’t know what Grell owes him but it’s something big!

 

 Eric delivers.

 Ronald wakes up the next morning with a girl from General Affairs he thinks is Miss Rosie. She kicks him out the second she wakes up, but Ronald doesn’t mind. He’s not such a cad he’ll leave before his companion for the night wakes, but he doesn’t want to hang around forever. Breakfast dates are not his thing. As he’s escaping, he notices Alexi just down the hall kicking a woman out of Isaak’s place with scathing politeness before slamming the door in her face. _Friendly_.

 Grell and Eric are waiting outside Ronald’s home. Eric has coffee and sunglass and his hand over Grell’s mouth. Ronald smirks. Too much fun too pass up.

 “Good morning, Eric,” he chirps, purposefully loud and high. Eric flinches, face scrunched up. “Another hangover?”

 “Fuck you, brat,” he growls. He takes a drink as Ronald opens up his door, letting them follow in. Grell has a box, Eric has a matching one under his arm. He’s concerned. “We’re here to be nice.”

 “We’re gonna cheer you up,” Grell says, making Eric cringe again.

 “Unless you’ve got a new pair of shoes in that box, I doubt it,” Ronald sighs.

 “Correct.” Ronald frowns and Grell grins. “Go get ready for work and then it’ll be time for your surprise.”

 

 Ronald’s frown deepens but he does as he’s told. When he returns - pouting at his white shoes wrapped in plastic to keep them and his carpets safe and preparing for a day in plain shoes - Grell appears in front of him, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. Not that it’s that unusual for Grell.

 “Open it,” Grell demands, shoving the box into his chest. “And don’t say I never do anything for you. I love you like you’re my adorable cherubic son.”

 “I’m not cute, I’m sexy,” Ronald grumbles, but unties the red ribbon anyway. “And that’s creepy.”

 “Darling, Will is handsome sexy, Eric is manly sexy, at best you’re a pretty boy.”

 “Besides, you gotta get nasty with the lady to be considered hot, right?” Eric mutters.

 Ronald doesn’t want to ask when Eric got into a fight with Grell to be considered sexy. “I could hold my own.”

 “Ronnie. Beloved Ronnie. Darling, Ronnie dear, my sweet, adorable little angelic son, who I love like you were my own and I would protect from everything but the hottest of hotties.” Grell’s smile is not reassuring, nor are the hands suddenly on his cheeks. He swallows thickly as Grell leans close, voice lowered to a terrifying whisper. “I love you, but if you ever even _tried_ , I would castrate you.”

 “R-right! It’s a good job I’m rather healthily terrified of you then.”

 “I’m glad,” Grell laughs. “Now, open it!”

 

 Ronald nods and opens up the box slowly, ignoring the ribbon being taken to tie back Grell’s hair. He frowns down at the tissue paper inside, putting the box down on the kitchen side so he can dig inside. Finally the tissue paper is clears and Ronald’s jaw drops.

 “What’s she got ya?” Eric mumbles, suddenly leaning into the back of his shoulder. He pushes up his shades for a moment. “Oooh, fancy. How much did they set you back, Grell?”

 “Enough,” Grell replies. “Don’t ask rude questions. Ronnie’s worth it.”

 “Shit, Grell,” Ronald breathes.

 He grins and throws his arms around Grell’s shoulders, completely ignoring any complaints about messing up Grell’s hair or that he’d moves too quickly to be Eric’s leaning post. He loves them. They’re not his loves, but they’re beautiful and he loves them and appreciates the sentiment.

 “Thank yooooou!”

 “Well, why do you think I only wear red and black?” Grell scolds, pushing him off a little. “Now you can wear something when things are going to get messy. Put them on, I want to see my little boy looking all grown up.”

 Ronald nods quickly, taking the shoes from the box and leaning against the counter to lace them up. The quality is obvious from the moment he gets his hands on them. Gorgeous red and black leather to match Grell’s own pair. He grins and spins on his heel, letting Grell see, and even Eric looks impressed.

 “Looking good, kid,” he says.

 “Right, right, get his belt off, Eric,” Grell says.

 It says a lot about their friendship that Eric doesn’t even hesitate to ask why before pulling Ronald over and relieving him of his belt. Ronald’s only protest it that he can do it himself and doesn’t need his seniors dressing or undressing him - or at least, not these seniors and not without the promise of something more to come. Grell is in the box Eric had been holding and Ronald can’t quite see what’s going on until something is handed to Eric and he’s fixing Ronald’s belt again. Only it’s not _Ronald’s_ belt. It’s red. To match his shoes. And Grell.

 

 “Gotta dress to impress, Ronnie,” Grell says, holding out his jacket for him. “Having you looking sloppy reflects badly on your Auntie Grell.”

 “That makes you sound old, Grell,” Ronald laughs.

 “Weren’t you his mother a second ago?” Eric says.

 “Big sis then,” Grell snaps, loud enough to make Eric cringe into his coffee. “I love my little Ronnie, I have to teach him the ways of the world. Like why we wear black. It’s not just the death thing, you know? It’s so the blood doesn’t show.”

 “I thought it was just to be inconspicuous,” Ronald says as his seniors herd him out. “A nice black suit is always in fashion.”

 “Everyone looks good in a good suit,” Eric mutters into his drink.

 “Even you, Eric. Although, I’m not even sure what you wear can be called a suit.”

 “You’re lucky I need this coffee or I’d have poured it over you by now, kid.”

 “You’ve got such a simple mind, Ronnie,” Grell sighs. “Both of you. It must be a man thing. You have no idea about the importance of what your clothes say about you.”

 “A suit’s a suit,” Eric says.

 “As long as it makes you look good, that’s all the matters,” Ronald agrees.

 Grell sighs. “I really do have my work cut out with you two, don’t I?”


End file.
